


Covet

by spirkylurkey



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Francis is a douche, Hurt/Comfort, Non-con due to French royal wedding custom, semi-happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 16:58:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7765912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spirkylurkey/pseuds/spirkylurkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is Mary and Francis' wedding night. Someone must care for the new wife in the aftermath of the bedding ceremony, and it certainly won't be Francis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Covet

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: Non-con is not graphic, but the aftermath contains a bit of blood.  
> I don't know why I keep writing these it's like I want to hurt myself. That being said: I love Bash to death.

He stands, bastard-born and powerless as ever, letting the sting consume him. It is the most confined he has ever been, with ropes about his wrists and his father’s hand heavy on his shoulder, a warning now where it usually is a marker of affection. He feels the agony bubble up from his stomach to his mouth and threaten to spill out. The look he receives from Francis the moment before he climbs into bed implores him to choke on it.

  
Sebastian is not a bad man, would not consider himself evil enough to have to endure this. The first little exhale from Mary’s mouth is like a punch to the gut, every single one after carrying the same amount of pain. In the end, Francis’ grunt before he rolls off of her and walks out strikes him as the worst thing. He envies what his brother has taken for granted for the first time in a very long time. He wants to slap that insolent boy for leaving Mary as she is, trembling in a dress made of sheets and leaking small splotches of blood on to the mattress from their passionless coupling.  
He can still see her shadow behind the canopy as they all file out of the bedchamber, leaving her alone. He is the only one to look back and notice the gentle, wracking sobs that take her as she sits.

When the king has released him, he takes the second largest risk of his life: he secrets back to the chamber Mary was in, entering as she finishes painstakingly lacing her corset, her back to him. “Mary, it’s Bash,” he says quietly, hoping not to scare her. “Bash,” she says tonelessly, the plain speak of one trying not to reveal that they have been crying. He steps behind her and ties the bow that she has been struggling to complete. “I couldn’t bear for anyone to see me in such a state, even my ladies,” she swallows. “I could leave,” he offers. “No- no, Bash, please don’t leave me alone,” she says. The words seem like they cost her something. Bash does not know what to say, so he steps back to the heavy oaken door, locking it.

  
He puts a gentle hand about the curve of her waist and leads her to the settee in front of the dying fireplace. They sit together, each with a miserable air about them. “If I had known the pain and the blood of it, I would have stalled as best I could for as long as I could, but I was weary, Bash. I don’t expect your forgiveness, but please try to understand- Henry’s pressure was just too much, and they knew, somehow, that we were…carrying on,” she tells him.

  
“It isn’t supposed to feel like that, Mary,” he replies, “it is only because Francis is so blind to his own sins of the flesh, but hates you for yours. If it had been me, Mary, you-“ he stops himself. “I apologize. You are a married woman. I won’t intervene with that. Maybe Francis can find a love for you somewhere in his heart; Olivia could be a passing fancy now that you won’t be seen carrying on with me anymore. You could be happy with him.”

  
Mary lets out a chuckle utterly devoid of humor. “We both know that your brother was cut from the same cloth as your father. He shan’t leave his wine and women for a girl he thinks is a harlot. He does not respect me, and he respects my country even less. Scotland will be overthrown within the year.”

  
The look on her face is bitter, but resigned. Strong, levelheaded Queen Mary, ready to endure the fall of her nation and the sharp loss of love from her life. She is as beautiful as she’s ever been, to him. She is strong, and she needs him all the more for it. So Sebastian, equally as resilient, smooths the hair his brother mussed. He uses cloth to dry her tears. He takes a gentle hand and a pitcher of warmed water to the tacky blood between her thighs, even as she blushes. He fixes the strings of her loose, misaligned corset. He pinches her cheeks and lips for a healthy glow. He helps her in to the dress prepared for her exit. He leads her soft form to the door and gives her shoulders a gentle push to straighten.

  
When she looks like a proper queen at last, he kisses her with a loving ferocity, opens her door, and makes haste to leave out of the other. He glimpses her walking out into the hall, nodding at a servant. Later, he will sit in his chambers and contemplate what he will do, and will come to the shocking conclusion that he simply does not know. Months after, in the secluded ruins of a church with Mary’s mouth sealed over his, he knows his answer.


End file.
